Grandma closed her eyes, hugging the boy, preparing for the worst. The woman looked at the roll of posters that her daughter had been putting up that afternoon. She sighed, accepting what would happen if she discovered what her brother had done.The man rushed to the girl’s body.“Don’t come down if you’re barefoot,” he shouted to his daughter. “There’s glass everywhere down here.”The wood of the staircase creaked under her weight. A foot stopped on the second step. She hadn’t put her shoes on after drying herself with the bathrobe. A cold breeze climbed her legs to her groin. The elastic on her pajama bottoms, the worn, gray ones that were so comfortable and warm, danced on her bare ankles.“So the window has been smashed,” she assumed.“I’ve already cut myself,” her father lied. He trod on the floor to make the glass crunch. “Don’t come down.”“It’s dangerous,” added the woman.There were a few seconds of silence. Looks were exchanged in the room. Then the boy yelled, “We’re going to have a baby!”Grandma shushed him in his ear.
